


an ordinary hand (just lonely for something to touch)

by crooked



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-25 00:32:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crooked/pseuds/crooked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire wants to touch Enjolras, but only if he permits it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	an ordinary hand (just lonely for something to touch)

**Author's Note:**

> credit to [grantaires](http://grantair.es/post/59677076561/why-the-fuck-would-you-prefer-grantaire-forcing)' headcanon that speaks so much of the truth.

The fact that he's sitting on Enjolras' couch and Enjolras invited him there and the express purpose of the extension of this invitation seemed to be aimed at getting him there to kiss him is still something Grantaire can't quite fathom. But he rolls with it.

Or he tries to.

It's not easy for him to come to grips with the fact that this is happening. That it's Enjolras' hand curled at the back of his neck, fingers tangled in the curls that just spill over his collar. That Enjolras is kissing him and, god, moaning softly as he does. That his other hand has found a home on Grantaire's thigh. Because this is something he's fantasized about, laid awake in bed at night thinking about, dreamed about when he finally closed his eyes and slept.

So even as he is sitting there and being kissed (did he mention that?), Grantaire doesn't quite know what to do about it. He started with his hands sort of frozen in mid-air, fingers splayed as if in surprise when their lips first met. And then they just drifted everywhere — behind his back, stuffed beneath his thighs, clutching the couch cushions — everywhere but Enjolras, which was where his palms were really itching to be.

It's not that Grantaire doesn't want to touch him; it's just that he's not sure if he _can_. No rules had been laid down before this began. He only knew it was okay to kiss Enjolras back because he'd told him so after Grantaire went stiff with shock after an initial chaste peck. But Enjolras said nothing about being allowed to touch him, despite him not hesitating to touch Grantaire in the least.

But there is only so much awkward flailing a man can do with his hands before his arms start to get tired. It takes a Herculean effort to break the kiss, but Grantaire pulls away from Enjolras, leans back to peer at him. The little growl of frustration the Enjolras gives at the sudden lack of contact is more adorable than it should be, but Grantaire resists the urge to kiss him again because he just has to ask him a question.

"Enjolras," he begins, and just saying his name like that, breathlessly after all that kissing, makes Grantaire have to fight off the urge to blush. "Enjolras, I was wondering..." Enjolras says nothing, just tilts his head and lifts his eyebrows at Grantaire, so he has to go on. "I was just wondering if, if maybe... well, if it would be alright if I touched you?" The last words come out surprisingly quiet, like Grantaire is afraid to say them. Maybe he _is_ because this is everything he's ever wanted and if he's fucked it up by asking too much of Enjolras he will never forgive himself.

There is an hour's worth of silence (which is really only seconds) during which Enjolras' expression is unreadable. Grantaire is already preparing to make his apologies and leave when a soft smile blossoms on Enjolras' face. He can breathe again, he tells himself, but the feeling is short-lived because his breath catches in his throat when Enjolras takes his arm by the wrist and places Grantaire's hand in the center of his chest. And then slides his own hand on top of it. Grantaire's eyes are wide as he gapes at Enjolras, who is still smiling softly, like he didn't just cause Grantaire's heart to thunder against his ribs.

"I thought you'd never ask," Enjolras says, and it doesn't even sound cliched coming from his lips. It's perhaps the most beautiful thing Grantaire has ever heard, and he'd savor it more if he wasn't so busy surging forward to kiss Enjolras with more fervor than before.

It doesn't take long for those words to become the second most beautiful thing he's ever heard. The low, wanton moan his now-roaming hands elicit from Enjolras _easily_ takes first place.


End file.
